


undo me with just a touch

by rosyjuly



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Getting Together, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, i suppose. i dont research guys i just bullshit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25452703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosyjuly/pseuds/rosyjuly
Summary: When the sun finally dropped below the horizon, they stopped, too. Nicolò hadn’t anticipated such coldness. They made camp, lit a fire if Yusuf deemed it safe. The fire was nice. They sat, staring into it, or pretending to stare into it while they were watching each other.The first night, Nicolò woke up in shivers, he was so cold. He moved closer to the remains of the fire, but it had ran down. He sat there, watching the sun creep its way up, watched it lit Yusuf up in a beautiful, golden light, his hair a halo.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 2
Kudos: 91





	undo me with just a touch

**Author's Note:**

> this movie, you all. this movie.   
> uh, rating will go up.

Trust was not something Nicolò gave easily. 

He told himself he went with Yusuf out of necessity. Of sustenance. That he stuck with the man for a better chance of survival. 

They made their way slowly to the coast. Days seemed to drag on forever, scorching heat radiating from the terrain and the sky. Everything was covered in orange, coarse dust. 

Yusuf had tried to tell him to squint early on, mimicked how Nicolò looked: he’d raised his brows and stared at Nicolò with wonder and confusion, his brown eyes impossible soft, even in their gentle mocking. Nicolò had tilted his head and stared back, feeling as if somehow he was staring at his own reflection. That had made Yusuf laugh.

When the sun finally dropped below the horizon, they stopped, too. Nicolò hadn’t anticipated such coldness. They made camp, lit a fire if Yusuf deemed it safe. The fire was nice. They sat, staring into it, or pretending to stare into it while they were watching each other. 

The first night, Nicolò woke up in shivers, he was so cold. He moved closer to the remains of the fire, but it had ran down. He sat there, watching the sun creep its way up, watched it lit Yusuf up in a beautiful, golden light, his hair a halo. 

“You should have woken me up,” Yusuf said when he came to, propped himself up on his elbow. Nicolò shrugged slowly, still in awe of the first rays of light. 

They took to pointing things out, telling each other its name in their tongues. Nicolò felt slow. Italian rolled off Yusuf’s tongue so easily. No amount of effort on his part could be up to par. 

“We sleep like this,” Yusuf said the next night, bringing over what he used as a bedroll next to Nicolò’s. Nicolò blinked up at him because. The sheets were touching. But he didn’t say no. He doubted he could, if Yusuf was asking something of him. 

They slept, backs pressed to each other. When Nicolò came to, he was pleasantly warm all over. Then he inhaled, sharp but quiet: Yusuf’s arm was heavy over his midriff, the man planted over his back, knees tucked in between his own. He must have rolled over some time during the night and attached himself to Nicolò as his source of heat. Nicolò shut his eyes, willing that part of himself that was infinitely pleased to silence. Reluctantly, he let himself relax in Yusuf’s embrace and went back to sleep. 

Yusuf did not apologize in the morning. He smiled at Nicolò. Offered him water. It was more soothing than any apology could have been.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!


End file.
